


If only you knew

by roughlycut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwatch, Crying, Drinking, M/M, Pining, Smoking, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughlycut/pseuds/roughlycut
Summary: 7 small glimpses into the development of a relationship.Based on prompts for Blackwatch Week(found here).A big thank you to Alec and Rabbit for helping me out!





	1. I

It’s about 10.47 am on a regular Wednesday when Gabriel Reyes discovers how badly he wants to fuck Jesse McCree. It’s not that anything is different really. Sure, Gabriel has spent more time with him lately, McCree needing extra training for the upcoming mission, but nothing has changed in McCree’s behavior. He’s still McCree. He still walks feet first, spurs jangling loudly, announcing his presence. He still smokes those God-awful cigarillos, the stench of them lingering even after he’s left the room. He still tips his hat a little when he greets the kitchen staff for lunch, earning him an extra scoop of mash or an extra cup of pudding. And he still gets on Gabriel’s nerves, lately for bringing his gun to the new training sessions, despite knowing he won’t need it, ( _damn it McCree, how many times do I have to tell you that you’re training for a stealth mission? It’s knives and hands only, cowboy, understood?_ ).

The mission isn’t that different from what they usually do, but the aftermath of it will be easier to handle if they get in and out quietly, hence the need for stealthier methods. Gabriel has prepped for it for just about two months now, gathering intel, discussed possible scenarios with his team. They’ve got a plan B and a plan C, mapped out escape routes, and set up alternate extraction points. Gabriel is overseeing McCree’s training while going over the latest updates on the targets, (he needs to make sure none of them have changed cars or gotten new mistresses), when the sound of a heavy thud makes him look up from the tablet in his hand.

Mignola has got McCree pinned to the mat, his arms twisted behind his back, forcing him to drop the knife in his hand. Her whole body is tense as she’s putting pressure on the body beneath her, almost twice her size, making McCree gasp for breath. Must be about the 10th time he’s gone down, Gabriel thinks. He seems to be getting frustrated, face red and strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Gabriel’s eyes linger on him, his mind suddenly wandering. Imagining McCree blushing and panting underneath him, body quivering as Gabriel’s hands wander further and further down. Imagining McCree, glistening with sweat as he begs for Gabriel to -

“Commander?”

Gabriel snaps out of it at the sound of Mignola’s voice. He looks at her, trying to seem indifferent, but he’s sure he’s blushing, cheeks feeling warm. Her face is neutral, not even the faintest of smiles on her lips. McCree has his back turned towards him, rubbing his arm. Gabriel can already tell it’s going to bruise.

“Again,” Gabriel shouts, before looking back down at the blueprints on his screen. Out of the corner of his eye he sees them get into starting positions, McCree with some hesitation. Gabriel does his best to tune out McCree’s small grunts, refusing to let the sounds distract him, as he goes over the mission details again. There doesn’t seem to be any behavioral changes, but one of the targets hasn’t been seen for two days. Gabriel makes a note to find out if they’ve been found out, though it is more likely that the target is either dead or high as a kite in some hotel room.

“Ha! Not so fast now, are ya- _ofh_!”

Gabriel looks up just in time to see McCree’s body hitting the mat again, the sound of it reverberating in the large hall. Mignola plants her knee square on McCree’s chest, holding the knife to his throat. A triumphant smile flickers on her lips before she gets off of him, extending her hand down towards him. This time though, McCree doesn’t get up. Instead he stretches out flat against the ground, groaning, as he runs his hand down his sweaty face. Mignola takes a few steps back and grabs her water bottle.

“Sir,” McCree says, clearly fighting to catch his breath, “did you ever consider not bringin’ me on this mission?”

Mignola shoots Gabriel a look, as if to say ‘maybe he’s right’. Gabriel sighs and jerks his head to the side, giving her a silent order to hit the showers. For the first time in years, he’s alone with McCree. He can’t even remember when he last was. Maybe a few years back, when the kid’s panic attacks had gotten so bad he’d stopped showing up for training, had stopped eating. Gabriel remembers how McCree looked back then, pale and much too thin. Like when they brought him in from Deadlock, a young boy who seemed to know far too much about guns and far too little about life.

“Mignola, ‘m sorry you’re stuck with me,” McCree mumbles, clearly unaware his sparring partner is long gone, “I really am doing my best, but-“

“I dismissed her, McCree,” Gabriel says, taking a few steps towards the mat. This close he can really see the darker patches of sweat making the fabric of McCree’s t-shirt sticking to his broad chest. He does his best not to let his eyes linger, not to pay attention to the strip of skin visible between McCree’s t-shirt and the hem of his sweatpants, not to notice the hickeys at the bottom of his neck. He fails, miserably.

“I’m going to be straight with you sir, if you take me on this mission I’ll slow you down, get myself killed. Or worse, get the team killed. Nobody wants that,” McCree says, his arm covering his eyes, “I’m not a quitter, you know that, but this …”

McCree’s voice trails off and silence falls between them. McCree is right, Gabriel thinks. He’s not a bad agent, on the contrary, he’s one of the best marksmen that they’ve got in Blackwatch. They both know this. All of Blackwatch knows this. But this mission, what’s required, it’s evidently out of McCree’s capability as of right now. He could put the whole team and the operation in danger.

“You’re right,” Gabriel says bluntly, noticing how McCree’s body goes stiff for a second, “the time spent on trying to get you ready, could be spent on refining the skills of other agents. I’m pulling you off the team for this one.”

McCree sits back up with a grunt and looks up at Gabriel. Emotions he can’t quite place flickers across the kid’s face. Acceptance? Remorse? Gabriel knows this has been long under way. He knows McCree gave up a week ago. So why had he kept on pushing him? Was he that desperate to be around him?

“Thank you, sir,” McCree mumbles after a bit, extracting his hand towards Gabriel. He grabs it, pulling him up towards him in a swift move, enjoying the feeling of McCree’s warm hand in his. The touch is sending shivers down his spine and it takes Gabriel a few seconds to notice just how close they’re suddenly standing. McCree doesn’t seem to care though, he just rubs his side and winces.

“Mignola didn’t hold back there at the end,” he says with a pained smile on his lips, “I’m sure I’ve gotten a few bruised ribs. Permission to go to the infirmary, sir?”

Gabriel nods, taking a step back to let McCree go past him. Their shoulders brush, igniting a spark in Gabriel, and he curses at himself because he knows how pointless it is. McCree wouldn’t be interested in an old broken soldier like him, wouldn’t be interested in his superior. Besides, it seems that McCree already has someone who pushes him back on the mattress and takes him apart, judging by the hickeys. So in more ways than one, it’s probably for the best that McCree doesn’t go with him on this mission. In fact it’s probably for the best if Gabriel keeps his distance for a while.

“Reyes, sir,” McCree says, hand on the door handle, “thank you for, you know …”

Gabriel looks at him, giving him a nod, urging him to go on. Obviously nervous, McCree runs his hand through his hair. Gives Gabriel a weak smile, torn between wanting to talk to him and desperate to get him to leave.

“I know how you feel about quitting, sir. And you know how I feel about quitting. So, knowing how difficult it can be for both of us, I really appreciate it.”

Gabriel can’t help but smile. This is a rare sight. Not that McCree doesn’t express his gratitude when good things happen, but usually it’s followed by a joke or an overly enthusiastic smile. But not this time. McCree looks serious, a little sad even.

“Don’t mention it McCree,” Gabriel says, “in the end the mission is the most important thing. Takes a lot of guts to admit there’s things you don’t know how to do, especially in a business like this.”

McCree gives Gabriel a nod before opening the door. He hesitates for a few seconds, hand tightening on the handle, and then he’s gone down the hallway. Gabriel lets out a sigh, pulls off his beanie and runs his hand over his short hair. This needs to stop before it develops into something more, something beyond a physical need.

“Get it together Gabriel,” he mumbles to himself as he picks up the tablet and opens a folder with the latest surveillance photos of the targets, “you’ve got a team to lead.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 small glimpses into the development of a relationship.  
> Based on prompts for Blackwatch Week [(found here)](https://blackwatchweek.tumblr.com/post/161176037050/incoming-transmission-prompt-list).  
> A big thank you to Alec for helping me out!
> 
> Please note that the tags and the parings has been updated.  
> Also, some form of McReyes is endgame, so don't be alarmed by the cyborg making an appearance.

It’s about 11.44 pm on a slightly less than ordinary Saturday when Gabriel Reyes realizes his romantic feelings towards Jesse McCree. He’s in a place he’s not supposed to be, in a state he’s not supposed to be in. More specifically, he’s standing in front of McCree’s door, so drunk that he has to support himself by leaning on the wall. How did it come to this, Gabriel thinks. He’d seen less of McCree in the past few weeks, purposely putting physical distance between himself and the kid. It had come natural at first, with the stealth mission, and then with injuries Gabriel sustained during it, keeping him in the hospital wing for a few days. After his release, Gabriel had made sure not to eat when he could hear McCree was in the dining hall, he’d stayed in the far end of the shooting range when he oversaw training, despite McCree’s complaints ( _I’m not coming down there cowboy, you know how to shoot a gun, god damn it!_ ), and he’d tried, he’d really tried, to enjoy the fact that McCree had in turn stopped deliberately pushing his buttons.

Gabriel can’t lie, the first time McCree didn’t mutter a witty comeback, it was truly a relief. Gabriel welcomed the more professional tone, felt it was easier to go through the day when he could view the kid as just another Blackwatch agent. The fantasizing didn’t stop, of course, but it got more manageable. Easier to keep it at bay when there’s no new images to feed it with. No sweaty McCree in a tank-top lifting weights in the summer heat, no combat training where Gabriel pinned him to the floor three times in a row, and no casual Blackwatch parties, McCree tipsy and rose-cheeked leaning in real close, slinging an arm around his shoulder ( _Reyes, sir, I just gotta tell ya how much I ‘preciate you takin’ me in way back when. Saved my life ya know._ ). Gabriel started to feel like it might blow over, that the burning desire to make McCree come apart underneath him, to hear him moan, would become nothing but a distant memory soon. But then he got lonely. And then he got drunk.

The sound of footsteps, loud and intrusive in the empty hallway, makes Gabriel panic. He straightens up and walks around the corner, doing his best to look calm and collected, should anyone spot him. Not that anyone ought to be in these quarters now. It’s Johnson’s birthday, meaning that all of the agents are supposed to be at his party at the other end of the base. Gabriel got an invitation, not from McCree as he usually would, but from Mignola. He declined, of course, feeding her some lie about not wanting to interrupt the agents time off with his presence. Honestly it had looked like she didn’t believe him, and Gabriel didn’t blame her. It had never been an issue for him, or his subordinates, that he partook in parties and celebrations. But it was an issue now, because no matter what, Gabriel couldn’t stop thinking about McCree riding his dick.

At the end of the hallway there’s a jingling sound of keys alongside heavy footsteps. The person approaching is dragging their feet a little, stumbling almost. There’s a faint laugh and the footsteps comes to a halt, immediately followed by the rustle of clothes and then another laugh. Gabriel attempts to clear his mind, card through the alcohol fog and recall if he has any kind of excuse to be here. He faintly remembers needing some confirmation on events for a few reports, and he knows that McCree is scheduled for an evaluation soon. But none of that warrants him being here at this hour and in this state. As Gabriel decides on claiming he simply got lost looking for the toilet, the smell of cigarillos hits his nose. Despite his contempt for the smell, it jumpstarts a warm feeling in Gabriel’s abdomen. All the fantasies flood his drunken brain, and for a second it feels like it might be possible, that there might be a chance. Maybe McCree would want someone like Gabriel to take him apart, hold him down, kiss into his mouth and make him beg for release. Maybe Gabriel was a fool for distancing himself. Maybe-

“Jesse, stop you impatient fool, wait until we get to your room.”

Gabriel snaps out of his drunken daydream at the sound of a familiar voice. It has a slight synthetic sound to it, and the hint of a Japanese accent. Gabriel feels his whole body deflate. How could he be so stupid? How could he forget the hickeys he’d spotted weeks ago on McCree’s neck? Of course the kid was seeing someone. And of course it was Genji. Gabriel had nothing but praise for the cyborg, more skilled with a sword than anyone he’d ever met. Genji rarely partook in regular training, having no need to learn how to operate firearms for the missions he was usually sent on. But Gabriel had attended meetings with him, planned operations in Japan using intel from him, and he’d been around Angela when Genji had come by for maintenance.

“But what if I don’t want to wait,” McCree says, voice slurred and mischievous, “no one is here anyway, might as well start early.”

Genji laughs in reply and the sound of a belt being unbuckled resounds in the hallway. Gabriel fists both his hands so hard they go numb. He was stupid for coming here, stupid for thinking McCree wasn’t already seeing someone, stupid for even falling for him in the first place. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for having to listen to the two of them fucking in the hallway, when Genji shushes McCree halfway through a needy groan. Gabriel holds his breath.

“Jesse, please, there are video cameras,” Genji says, sounding slightly out of breath, “and while you might be an exhibitionist, I certainly am not.”

“Alright, alright,” McCree mumbles, smile evident in his voice.

There is a rustle of keys as the door to McCree’s room is unlocked, and Gabriel catches the start of McCree’s drunken laughter, before the door is closed behind them. Leaning up against the wall, Gabriel bends forward to unlace his boots, dragging them off with some difficulty. Quietly he walks past McCree’s door, doing his best to ignore the faint sounds coming from within the room.

The walk back to his own quarters seems to be in slow motion, McCree’s needy groan replaying in his head over and over again. He keeps imagining Genji’s hands on McCree’s belt-buckle, keeps seeing the hickeys on the kid’s neck. But what’s worse is the growing ache Gabriel feels in his heart, like a shift in gravity, making his whole body feel heavy. The physical need he could handle, treat with tactical distance and the relief of his own hand. But this, the realization that he desires more than just McCree’s naked body underneath him, it’s far worse. Far more serious.

As Gabriel reaches the door to his own room, he doesn’t feel drunk anymore, just sick, and he barely makes it inside before emptying the contents of his stomach into the small trash can next to his desk.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 small glimpses into the development of a relationship.  
> Based on prompts for Blackwatch Week [(found here)](https://blackwatchweek.tumblr.com/post/161176037050/incoming-transmission-prompt-list).  
> A big thank you to Alec for helping me out!
> 
> Please note that I will not be posting chapter 4 tomorrow!  
> Chapter 4 and 5 will be posted on day 5. My apologies.

It’s about 1.03 am on an average Monday when Jesse McCree is confronted with his affections for Gabriel Reyes. He hasn’t thought about his feelings in years, the hope of it ever being reprociated long gone. At first Jesse had thought he’d have a chance, the simple naïvety of a young man, but as time went on he simply resigned himself to the fact that he’d never be anything to Reyes but his friend, held out at arm’s length, always presented as one of his best agents. Jesse got used to ignoring the slight increase of his own heartbeat whenever Reyes stepped into the room. He grew accustomed to tune out the way his skin prickled, sparks flying, at the touch of Reyes hand. And he quickly decided that if he couldn’t have the man he loved the most, then he wouldn’t have any man at all.

Genji Shimada was a man, but a different kind. More honest, direct. But he wasn’t cruel, he knew when to mind his own business, when to shut up. It had drawn Jesse to the cyborg and they’d hit it off almost instantly, finding a friend in one another. Becoming lovers was more like an afterthought really, born of a need for intimacy. It wasn’t a romantic thing ( _Jesse, while I do appreciate your current rush to get undressed, I need to make sure you know this is nothing more, won’t ever be nothing more, than sex between friends_ ), and Jesse was fine with it. Sometimes weeks would pass where they barely saw each other, missions and training schedules making it hard to make time, but lately Jesse had put in more effort to see Genji. He’d felt lonely, like when he was first brought to the base, straight from Deadlock. But what had been the issue back then, Jesse not knowing anyone and not wanting to see anyone, the issue now was that he knew everyone, but only wanted to see one person. Reyes. It was odd, Jesse thought, that he felt abandoned almost, after Reyes had agreed he shouldn’t go on the stealth mission. Jesse had barely seen Reyes before he left, but he’d told himself it was nothing. Reyes needed time to prepare for the upcoming mission. It was necessary isolation. But now, now it felt more like deliberate neglect.

Jesse takes a drag of his cigarillo and leans on the frame of the open window. The air outside is warm and humid, doing little to help his sweaty body cool off. Behind him there’s a click of one of Genji’s vents opening, followed by the hiss of steam being released.

“Not fair,” Jesse mumbles under his breath. Sure, being a cyborg clearly had disadvantages, Jesse had been with Genji to the infirmary enough times to know that, but being able to cool off that easy in the sticky summer heat was a definite plus in Jesse’s book. There’s another click, followed by a whirr and then silence fills the room. It’s not uncomfortable, Jesse thinks, but it feels like there is something between them, something unsaid. Suddenly he gets scared Genji will tell him this is no longer working out, that the increase in late night rendezvous has been too much for him.

"Tell me," Genji says suddenly, as if he senses Jesse’s rising anxiety, "why have you never expressed your feelings towards commander Reyes?"

Jesse scoffs and glances back at the bed where Genji lies, trying his best to look aloof. He shouldn’t be surprised that this is what’s been on Genji’s mind, that he has it figured out. He always seems to know what’s going on inside other people’s head, what they’re struggling with, what’s keeping them up at night.

“Never was possible to keep a secret from ya, was it,” he says with a sigh as he flicks the rest of his cigarillo out the window, “how long ya been holding on to that question?”

“Few days, a week maybe,” Genji replies, thoughtfully, “I’ve had my suspicions before, but I haven’t felt like it was any of my business.”

“What makes you feel like it’s any of ya business now then?”

Jesse can almost hear Genji’s shrug. But he doesn’t believe for a second that he doesn’t really care.

“It’s starting to affect the way you fuck me,” Genji states, a slight smile audible in his voice, “it’s been getting worse and I worry that you’ll suddenly start sobbing into my shoulder while you got your dick buried in my ass.”

Jesse attempts a laugh, tries to play along, hide the sadness that’s slowly creeping up under his skin. He does his best to put a disinterested look on his face before turning around, but he can tell Genji sees right through it, instantly. His face changes, clearly understanding that he triggered something.

“It’s not that simple Genji,” Jesse says with a sigh, capitulating.

“I know.”

“He’s my boss.”

“I know.”

Jesse stares at his bare feet, suddenly feeling naked, exposed.

“Reyes, he’s … I’m … _fuck_ ,” Jesse mumbles, feeling tears well up in his eyes, “it’s- it’s been like this for years Genji, years and years of yearning and hoping and nothing, nothing ever happened. I was younger, I … I didn’t know how to approach him, didn’t know how to make him see me. So I just bottled it all up, buried it deep down. I had a job to do, I couldn’t just keep dreaming like some dumb teenager. I had to be realistic.”

Jesse sniffles and shudders, angrily wiping his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. Genji is on his feet now, the worry on his face clearly visible. He opens his mouth to talk, but Jesse cuts him off.

“And it was fine, it really was, I was okay with never getting the chance to be with him. But something has changed, he’s changed. He doesn’t talk to me anymore, Genji, he doesn’t … he doesn’t see me anymore. And I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Genji walks over to him, placing a cool hand on his cheek, brushing his hair to the side. It’s sticky with sweat and tears, but Genji doesn’t flinch. He movies his hand to Jesse’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Jesse. I’m sorry I asked.”

Jesse shakes his head.

“’S okay.”

“I think we should stop doing this.”

Jesse nods, even if he doesn’t fully agree. He’ll miss it, the intimacy. Knowing Genji was always there if he needed it. If he wanted it. But he understands, doesn’t blame him if Genji can’t go on when Jesse’s acting like this.

“And I think,” Genji continues, with some hesitation, “you should talk to Gabriel.”

Jesse’s body goes tense at the mere thought of it. He can already picture Reyes confused expression as he has to endure Jesse’s mumbled confession. Jesse frowns, tries to shake Genji’s hand off his shoulder.

“What the fuck am I gonna tell him?”

Genji squeezes, hard, keeping him in place. His eyes find Jesse’s.

“You’re gonna tell him that you love him,” he replies, voice serious, the grip on Jesse’s shoulder tightening even further, “and then you’re going to request to be transferred to another division.”

Jesse grits his teeth. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of asking for a transfer. He’d just never thought it would come to it, had never imagined he’d need to get away from Reyes. He’d always been there, a solid rock in Jesse’s life. But maybe it really was about time he started thinking about a life without Gabriel Reyes in it.


	4. IIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 small glimpses into the development of a relationship.  
> Based on prompts for Blackwatch Week [(found here)](https://blackwatchweek.tumblr.com/post/161176037050/incoming-transmission-prompt-list).  
> 

It's about 11.55 pm on an insignificant Thursday when Gabriel Reyes understands that he’s made a mistake in regards to Jesse McCree. Gabriel hasn’t seen much of him since the incident in the hallway, unable to really look him in the eye. Too embarrassed. Too angry. Too heartbroken. He’s taken to eating all his meals in the privacy of his own office, training in the early hours of the day when he knows McCree is still sleeping, and attending out-of-house meetings he’d normally just handle over the phone. When Gabriel’s change in behavior is commented on by Andersson ( _if you don’t want to run five extra laps, agent, I suggest you refrain from commenting on my eating habits!_ ), Gabriel decides to send McCree away on a mission. To clear his head. To regain control. And to get the papers in order for the promotion, and the then inevitable transfer, of McCree. He doesn’t know, of course, Gabriel having postponed his evaluation to avoid talking to him, discussing this with him. It’s for the best, Gabriel thinks. For both himself and the kid.

The mission is almost identical to countless of other undercover missions they’ve been on. Civilian clothing, inconspicuous car, false name and an average motel room in a small town. The reason for the investigation is possible money laundering and possible weapon smuggling. They don’t have a lot of intel to go on, and that’s why McCree is there, to observe. To write down names, license plates, and addresses. Technically speaking it’s more of a stakeout. He isn’t supposed to interact with anyone even remotely involved. But seeing as he’s going to be hanging around for almost two weeks, it’s preferable that he has a reason to be there. Just in case. A honeymoon set-up is briefly discussed as an alibi, but Gabriel’s stomach churns as he sees Genji eye McCree from across the room, and quickly decides that it’s far more believable if the kid’s car malfunctions, ( _no one goes on their honeymoon in rural Texas anyway_ ).

Gabriel looks forward to not seeing McCree. To not hear him. There is no contact during the mission, as a precaution, of course. In case your room is bugged. In case you get caught. In case you die. Instead agents are equipped with a burner phone, one single number saved on the sim card under the name ‘emergency’. It’s a direct line to an old mobile phone on Gabriel’s desk, a post-it note on the screen declaring that this is for incoming calls only. No agent has ever called it, Gabriel has never spoken to one of his agents on that phone. But he’s spoken to plenty of police men and investigators, explained situations, offered help and received condolences. He doesn’t mind. Because the phone with the single phone number isn’t for the agent to use, no. It’s for whomever finds the body. It’s for whomever is left with the aftermath of a dead Blackwatch agent.

Meaning that when it rings, just 4 days into McCree’s mission, Gabriel’s heart drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel sorry for you readers, leaving you on this cliffhanger. But, seeing as McCree still has both arms in this fic, you probably know where this is going.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 small glimpses into the development of a relationship.  
> Based on prompts for Blackwatch Week [(found here)](https://blackwatchweek.tumblr.com/post/161176037050/incoming-transmission-prompt-list).  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, some five months later, with a short update. It was never my intention for this much time to pass, but life happened. I hope you're still with me, and will continue to be for the final chapters as well. I'll try to have them finished and posted before February is over.

It’s about 12.05 am on a dreadful Friday when Gabriel Reyes considers what his life would be like without Jesse McCree. The phone seems to ring forever before he reaches across the desk to pick it up, hands shaking as he pushes the green button. He presents himself with an alias, keeping his voice calm, despite his hands feeling numb and his throat constricting. The person on the other end doesn’t greet him, just starts rambling half-finished sentences about an explosion at the motel, the chaos and the blood. Gabriel remains silent, scared to ask the one question he needs answered. They go on about the police. The fire department. The ambulance. Gabriel tenses as McCree’s alias is mentioned, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the stranger lets him know the owner of the phone is still alive.

Another person takes over. Not police. Doctor, maybe? He doesn’t catch her name, or title, but she speaks with authority and he lets her. He tells her that he’s a friend and that no, there is no relatives and no, there is no explanation for the single number on the phone either. She buys it, and Gabriel receives the information about McCree’s whereabouts in silence. He gets up then, nauseous, legs threatening to give out under him. Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he fills out documents on his holo screen. McCree’s alias, requests for specialists in whatever he will need. An order for a transfer to the Blackwatch medical wing. Gabriel pauses as he’s asked if he’ll come see him, in Texas.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option at this time,” he manages, trying not to think of the state McCree is in, probably bloody and broken, immobilized in a hospital bed. White walls, white sheets, white bandages. Too sterile for a kid like him. Not enough sun, not enough space. And Gabriel put him there. He sent McCree on this mission. Because he was desperate, foolish, not thinking straight. Scared.

Gabriel hangs up without a word, letting the phone drop on the desk with a loud clatter. He grips the edge of the table, hard, knuckles going white as the guilt washes over him. His vision blurs, black spots forming. For the first time in years Gabriel wishes he wasn’t in charge. Wishes that the responsibility wasn’t his.

“Get it together Reyes,” he mumbles to himself, slumping back in his chair. There’s tears on his cheeks and on the papers scattered on the table in front of him. He blinks, tries to regain his composure. There isn’t time for this now. He has to report it in, set things in motion.

He sends off the necessary papers, triple checking the information is correct. Then he sends off a message to Jack. Nothing elaborate, just a brief note about the origin of his extraordinary requests. He considers sending one to Genji as well, letting him know that McCree is injured. He deserves to know. But it would do no good now, Gabriel doesn’t know anything, and he’s not about to have Genji pacing his office waiting for answers. So he doesn’t. Instead he searches, with shaky hands, trough his bottom drawer. Pulls out bottle of tequila. It’s got a bow on it, a little card reading ‘Gabe’ attached to it. Was it a gift? From Jack maybe? Or the team? He can’t remember. It doesn’t matter, not now, not ever. He takes a swig of it. Then another one, and one more after that. Grabs a nearby empty coffee cup and pours himself a proper drink, fast. Downs it at the same speed.

And then he just sits there.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm still working through a partial writers block, but I didn't want to miss out on Blackwatch Week, so here I am, trying my best. I hope you liked it and I would be very happy if you left a comment.  
> You're also welcome to come talk to me on [my tumblr](http://silasthemutant.tumblr.com/) or [my twitter](https://twitter.com/BlueEyedMutt).


End file.
